


Mummy

by Virodeil



Series: Mummy's Midget, Midget's Mummy [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: A journey of slow healing, Canon Divergence - Thor (2011), Diabetes inducing fluff, Drabble Series, Gen, Gentleness, Internalised Racism, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Post-Infancy Breastfeeding, Other, POV First Person, POV Loki (Marvel), internalised sexism, more tags added as we go, sensitive topics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virodeil/pseuds/Virodeil
Summary: Loki needs Nalla. Nalla needs Loki. Both need to sequester themselves somewhere and try to mend many things, including themselves. But the execution of the wishes isn’t as straightforward, nor as easy, sadly.(Sequel toMidget, continuing right after its last chapter, with the focus now more on “Nalla”.)
Relationships: Byleistr & Loki (Marvel), Helblindi & Loki (Marvel), Laufey (Marvel) & Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) & Original Character(s), Loki (Marvel) & jötnar (Marvel), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Mummy's Midget, Midget's Mummy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833289
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52
Collections: The Land of Ice and Snow





	1. Gentleness

A hand that seems to dwarf my head runs itself gently over my hair, again and again and again.

The hand of a _frost giant_.

Maybe even an _ergi_ jötun, a man who bore a child, as I am draped over… his?… chest, now, and feel no evidence of womanly bosom.

But an ergi jötun with a gentle hand… if it were at all possible.

If I am not dreaming.

And I would _love_ to know that I am only dreaming.

Because it would mean that I am _not_ a jötun, a monster; that I am _still_ Odinson, still an ás, Frigga’s son, Thor’s brother.

Because it would mean that I have not been lied to, all my life.

But the hand that runs itself over my hair again and again and again is gentle, so gentle, gentler than Thor’s whenever he interacts physically with me, since my earliest memory.

And a power not of my own encases me, now, softly like a comforting blanket, _and so familiar_.

It stays gentle, even as it soaks me through.

It claims me _back_ as part of it, relishes joyously in the reclaiming, and I know then that it is not a dream.


	2. Friendship

“My gratitude to you for your care of my child, miss.”

The voice, still rather wet and croaky, reverberates in the chest against which I am still pressed. Nalla – no, no, _not_ my mother, just… someone who birthed me, maybe – stands up and bows deep, while gathering me even closer to… his?… chest.

“My pleasure,” I hear Emilia smilingly say. “Actually, though, it’s my daughter Atlanta who took care of her the most. I arrived home just quite recently, while she’s been with Ata since a few days ago.”

` _She?_ ` I squawk privately. ` _What–?!_ `

But my concentration is all too soon drawn away from my _utterly warranted_ indignation, as Nalla asks Emilia to name the price that… he?… needs to pay for my upkeep.

She demurs. “I’m sure Ata took care of her without a wish to be repaid. I was the same, though I admit I was hoping we’d somehow meet you here. Now that we meet again, it’s…. Well, I hope we can be friends. Ata considers your kid her little sister.”

“Friendship.” Nalla sounds odd, as if it is _also_ an alien concept to him.

Damn. I do not want to be any similar to him!


	3. Feelings

“You are going home?” Atlanta mouths to me, wide awake albeit so recently awakened. Myriad emotions flit past her eyes, while her countenance is stony.

I look away briefly and half-heartedly wave a hand in a shrug. I do not know, myself – what to answer, what to do, what to feel. I am not in control of _anything_ , presently.

She looks quite wretched, while her desperate and confused gaze glances from her mother to me to Nalla and back again.

“We could return here after three days,” Nalla offers, at last, as I hunker lower on his lap, still very much cocooned in his arms.

“You promise?” Atlanta mouths to him.

He affirms.

My heart leaps.

Discomfort squirms in my chest and guts.

Atlanta _does not wish me gone_. Nalla wishes to bring _me_ “home” but most likely _not_ to Asgard. Thor’s coronation is supposed to be _tomorrow_ , while Nalla will most likely _not_ attend, let alone with me, forget letting me attend by myself.

What would the Allmother and Allfather think should I be absent on _that_ day? Thor? The nobles? The commoners?

“Loki?” Emilia calls gently. I look up.

“What do _you_ think?” she asks.

My breath hitches.


	4. Foreign Language

Nalla fishes out _a phone_ from his pocket, the moment I – unbelievably, stupidly – agree to leave with him – a _jötun_ , though currently in a more civilised guise. Then, after _excusing himself politely_ to present company, but without putting me down, he contacts… someone who speaks with him in a tongue that is _untranslatable by Allspeak_.

I tense up. – What is he talking about? To whom? Why can I not understand the language? Is he planning something _about_ me? Is he going to harm me the moment Emilia and Atlanta are not present?

He stares contemplatively at me, after the phone call, and does not seem to be eager to return to the cluster of chairs surrounding a small, low table that make up the living room of this rented place. He even cards his fingers through my hair again, in an unmistakably _motherly_ air, and it only makes me _more_ unnerved, not to mention confused.

And then, rather unexpectedly, and in a language I can understand, he explains where we are going and how we will travel to get there.

Is he not worried that I will have time and chance to escape, with that knowledge and timeframe in mind?


End file.
